My cats sit at their food bowls off feeding times, certain in the magic efficacy of their own corporeal presences. Looking up with expectant eyes, as if to suggest to me by mystical notions that, yes, their being at the bowl is all the sign I need that they too have a vested interest in the outcome of my actions.
And when I do not feed them directly, even if only an hour after their last feeding, they yet persist. Eyes to empty bowl, and then to me. And back to the bowls again. Doing their cat sorcery.
I do not feed them. Not until it's the time arbitrarily set by the human gods who occupy these rooms.
But they insist on making the show anyway, convinced of their magic prowess. Certain that they have moved me to pity. Sure that their arrival at the place is all they need to achieve their ends.
It reminds me, most of all, of Americans queuing up at the polls on voting day.
Crow's Eye: Maintaining a commitment to Pointless Acrimony™ and Hate Filled Invective™! Also available in corvid mischief and traditional sly dog's mistrust.
8 comments:
or: does it remind you of humans occupying Zuccotti Park?
"Certain that they have moved me to pity. Sure that their arrival at the place is all they need to achieve their ends."
Pharrell,
I have fewer opinions about Occupy NY now than I did a month ago, but I think the showing up there possesses a distinction, in that it at least must be lived and remembered.
the loveliest thing you've written in a while.
Bravo!!!!!!! There is a reason why so many of us have blog crushes on you and this post is it.
They just want to make sure you don't forget. Can't leave these important matters to chance, you know.
~
Heh. Nicely played.
I view voting as something akin to shooting yourself in the head. On second thought shooting myself in the head might prove more productive than voting. If I survived I might get some good drugs.
Humbled, all.
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